


these towns (they all know our name)

by amosanguis



Series: creature AUs [59]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: They make it work.  Somehow – they make it work.  Through all the blood and the bullshit – they make it work.





	

-z-

 

They make it work.

 

-

 

Dean roars and the bloodlust curling up in his veins screams to the forefront and the Blade sits heavy in his hand and he’s about to dig it deep into the chest of the human who dared to look at him sideways and—

And suddenly Castiel is there.

Castiel who’s too bright to look at, whose too deep voice is in his ear, saying, “Dean, don’t.”

And then the bloodlust is ebbing away like the ocean tide and Dean takes in one breath, then two, then three.   He twirls the blade once before he pockets it and says, “Whatever you want, Cas.”

 

-

 

They make it work.  Somehow – they make it work.

 

-

 

The demons tremble and the angels cry and Dean laughs at them all as he twirls the Blade and says, “Lucky for you, I’ve got an angel on my shoulder,” even as his eyes blink to black and his grin speaks of nothing but evil.

Sam tries – bless him, he tries.

But Dean outlasts him.  The first year is the hardest – and the second is even worse, until Castiel corners him.

“He’s safe, Dean,” he says.  “Sam is safe and content in heaven – don’t. Mess. With him.”

 

-

 

They make it work.  Somehow – they make it work.  Through all the blood and the bullshit – they make it work.

 

-

 

Dean stretches his blackened wings, grips the Blade tight, and stands firm.  The demons around him snap and snarl and brandish their stolen angels’ swords.

Dean laughs as he parries and kicks and stabs his way through the lot of them until he reaches the throne – he’s covered in gore and grinning as his blood thrums with the thrill of the fight.

(And Crowley’s long since fled once Dean’s settled himself on the throne.)

 

-

 

They make it work.  Somehow – they make it work.  Through all the blood and the bullshit – they make it work.  Castiel puts his nose to Dean’s neck, grips Dean’s arm tight – the feel of his grace burning the skin there all over again – and he whispers heatedly, “Dean.”

Then Dean is pulling him closer and snapping their clothes away – because though this is hardly their first time seeing each other naked, this _is_ their first time since Dean had conquered not only Hell, but his own demon self.

The kiss between them tastes like brimstone and primordial magic with that same lingering undercurrent of a cheap motel from their first days.  From when Dean had no control over anything aside from where he slept at night and which monster he Hunted in the morning.

Castiel pulls Dean in closer, flares his wings out – knowing that _this time_ Dean can see them in all their singed glory.  Castiel wears those battle scars like glories – and neither of the flinch away.

 

-z-

 

End.


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